


Don't Touch

by zynnser



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Exhibitionism, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, Voyeurism, common household items moonlighting as sex toys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-26
Updated: 2013-04-26
Packaged: 2017-12-09 14:01:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/775013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zynnser/pseuds/zynnser
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Are you sure you don't..." Stiles trails off, eyes darting between the bed and Derek. </p>
<p>"No," Derek says, shaking his head slightly and nudging Stiles in the direction of the bed. "I don't want... just what we agreed on. Just you."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Touch

**Author's Note:**

> Second attempt at porn, whoo! Unbeta'd, so apologies for any glaring errors.
> 
> Also posted to [my tumblr](http://zynnser.tumblr.com/post/48943970567/dont-touch).

As soon as Derek's feet hit the floor of Stiles's room he finds himself saddled with an armful of half naked teenage boy.

"I'm really glad you came but I'm also really nervous and I'm not sure if this is okay?" Stiles says in a rush, voice muffled from where his face is buried in Derek's neck. Derek can feel Stiles shaking, so he doesn't reply. He goes with his instincts and offers physical comfort by wrapping his arms around Stiles's back and running soothing hands along Stiles's spine until the muscles loosen.

Turning his head to the side, Derek nuzzles the skin behind Stiles's ear and speaks in a low voice. "We don't have to; we can wait."

Stiles pulls back slightly, and Derek lets him go, hands sliding down to rest on Stiles's hips as their gazes meet.

"No, I want to. I really really want to."

Derek nods and move one of his hands up to cradle Stiles's jaw and stroke his thumb along Stiles's cheek. Stiles sighs and leans forward, catching Derek's lips in a gentle kiss. Derek kisses back before pulling away slowly, letting Stiles snag on his lower lip between his teeth to draw out the contact just a little bit longer.

"Are you sure you don't..." Stiles trails off, eyes darting between the bed and Derek.

"No," Derek says, shaking his head slightly and nudging Stiles in the direction of the bed. "I don't want... just what we agreed on. Just you."

"Okay." Stiles bites his lip and looks at the floor before raising his eyes and nodding more confidently. "Okay."

Derek feels something loosen inside of him, grateful that Stiles isn't going to push for more tonight. He wants to be with Stiles, god, he wants, but at the same time he can't be like her. And tonight is the first step in proving to himself that he's different; that he's not going to crash through all of Stiles's boundaries just because he can. He's not going to take advantage of the fact that he's older and can pressure Stiles into feeling like he can't say no. He's not going to touch Stiles at all tonight.

Stiles lies back on the bed and Derek takes a seat in the desk chair, moving it so that he has a clear view of Stiles's body. Despite his reservations about this, Derek knows he doesn't want to miss any of it. Stiles smiles at him and starts running his hands up and down his chest, stopping occasionally to pay extra attention to his nipples.

"Like what you see?" Stiles sounds nervous, as though he's not sure if he's saying the wrong thing.

"Always," Derek says, trying to lessn the awkwardness. "You shouldn't... Don't cater to me just because I'm here. You don't need to put on a show."

Stiles relaxes a little and nods, sliding a hand down to play with the band of his sweatpants. "Okay, I just... I've never done this before."

"I know," Derek replies, reminding himself that he isn't pressuring Stiles. Stiles is the one who suggested this, Stiles wants to do this, and Stiles knows he can call it off for any reason.

"Then I'll just..." Stiles leaves off, palming himself through his sweats, hips rising off the bed slightly to meet his hand.

Derek leans back in the chair, determined not to upset Stiles's calm as he starts rocking against his hand. Stiles is still a teenager, a fact which Derek is painfully aware of, so it doesn't take long before he's completely hard inside his pants. Letting out a low moan, Stiles grabs the base of his cock through the material and squeezes, stomach muscles clenching as he tries to force his breathing into a calmer pattern.

Once Derek hears Stiles's breathing settle into a steady rhythm, Stiles raises his hips to remove the pants. Derek notes with some interest that he chose to forego underwear, making his dick slap against his stomach as he leans down to drag the ends over his feet. After tossing the pants on the floor, Stiles falls back against the bed with a sigh, fondling his balls and giving himself a few half-hearted tugs before retrieving the tube of personal lubricant from the bedside table.

Derek watches Stiles try and fail to open the lid, his thumb slowly turning red and raw from scraping against the plastic. "Fuck, this thing is stiff," Stiles swears softly as he continues his struggles. Derek's lips quirk up in a half smile that he can't quite keep in at Stiles's difficulties, and he focuses on the bedside table rather than Stiles to save him some embarrassment. He hasn't really looked at anything other than Stiles since he came through the window - and hasn't really wanted to - but examining the nightstand reveals that Stiles has laid out a cylindrical hairbrush and a box of condoms in addition to the lube. He quirks an eyebrow at the fact that Stiles has a _hairbrush_ in his room, but decides not to comment on it.

"Finally," Stiles grunts, opening the tube and squirting a generous amount of the clear gel into his right hand. He closes the lid part way but doesn't snap it shut, setting it back on the table with his clean hand. "I swear to god, they need to make those more user friendly."

Derek acknowledges Stiles's comment with a soft hum but doesn't voice a reply, not wanting to interrupt Stiles with undesired input. "Dude," Stiles says, sitting up and looking at Derek beseechingly. "You know you can talk, right? I get off just fine on my own pretty much every night; this is supposed to be something we're doing together."

Derek meets Stiles's eyes, but remains silent for a moment, trying to come up with the right thing to say. "If you do this every night, why do you still have so much trouble with the lid?"

Stiles lets out a genuine laugh, his body loosening and the atmosphere melting into something more natural. "Dude, I don't do _this_ every night. _This_ is for special occasions. I can't go through that amount of lube. My dad is a trained investigator; he would find out."

Nodding in agreement, Derek turns to look pointedly at the objects on the nightstand and raises an eyebrow at Stiles. Stiles blushes, but his gaze is steady when he meets Derek's eyes. "My dad would worry if I bought too much _lube_. It's not like I can buy a actual dildo in town without him finding out. And _that_ is a conversation I definitely don't need to have. Ever."

"But you can still buy condoms?" Derek asks, slightly puzzled.

"No, I can ask Scott for condoms," Stiles corrects, falling back to lie on the bed. "Man, thinking about Scott is a huge boner killer."

Derek shrugs. "Sorry."

"Ugh, why do I like you again?" Stiles asks as he moves his hands back down to his flagging erection.

It's a rhetorical question, and Derek isn't entirely sure of the answer anyway, so he settles for watching as Stiles pulls up his knees and splays his legs open so that he's on display. His clean hand is around his cock, massaging it back to full hardness. His other hand, the one coated in lube, has disappeared between his legs. The quiet expression of contentment on Stiles's face and the low hum coming out of his throat make Derek think that he hasn't pushed inside himself yet; that he's still circling and rubbing at his entrance.

He's proven right when Stiles lets out a sigh and rolls over, bracing himself on elbows and knees. Stiles reaches for the lube and flicks the lid open, squirting more onto his hand. "See? Much easier now." After setting the tube back on the table, Stiles uses his left hand to lower himself so that his shoulders are resting on the bed, letting him reach around to his ass. Stiles closes his eyes and sighs as he slowly slides his middle finger into the entrance.

Stiles moans, hips shifting back to push against his finger, and Derek finds himself letting out a soft noise as well. Stiles's eyes fly at the sound and he makes a point of smirking at Derek before starting to move his finger in and out. Derek nearly whimpers when Stiles adds a second finger, Stiles's mouth falling open as he exhales sharply, his left hand tightening around his cock.

Stiles continues to open his ass with two fingers, twisting his wrist and moaning when the knuckles catch on his rim. "You know," Stiles says conversationally, his voice a little breathy, "this would be a lot better if you were doing it."

"I'd have a better angle," Derek agrees, remembering what Stiles said earlier about wanting him to talk. "Be able to go deeper."

"Fuuuuck," Stiles groans, pushing a third finger against his entrance. "You'd be great at it, wouldn't you. God, your fingers are so thick, I'd-" Stiles grunts and breaks off as he breaches the ring of muscle with a third finger. "Would feel so fucking good, Derek, I can't wait to try."

"We will," Derek says, his voice hoarser than he'd thought it would be. He clears his throat and tries again. "We will, Stiles."

"Good." Stiles slides his fingers in and out, probing gently at his walls. Derek can tell the exact moment Stiles finds what he's looking for, because his face goes slack and his breath hitches. "Want that to be you next time," he says, his whole body tensing as he hits his prostate again.

Derek is too enthralled by Stiles's body to reply, but apparently Stiles doesn't need him to. He looks on intently as Stiles continues to tease himself, rubbing his prostate and playing with his cock before gripping the base and tugging on his balls, denying himself release. After third time Stiles stops himself from coming he pulls out his fingers with a slick sound. His hole flutters at the loss, excess lube pulsing out with each muscle spasm and dribbling down to pool behind his balls.

When Derek drags his focus away from the tantalizing view of Stiles's ass, he sees that Stiles has already rolled a condom down the handle of the hairbrush and is coating it with lubricant. Derek's incredulity must show on his face, because Stiles laughs at his expression.

"Dude, you can never have too much lube. Rule number one. And don't judge the condom; you have no idea how hard it is to keep things clean. I'm just being sanitary."

With that much eyecandy laid out before him, it's easy for Derek not to be judgmental. About the lube anyway.

"You know what would make this even better? If you could unzip your jeans a little. Or a lot! I just mean, I'm imagining this is you anyway, so maybe you could give me a little visual help?" Stiles's voice lifts like he's embarrassed, turning his statement into a question, but he continues anyway. "It's not like your pants are hiding much, and that has to be uncomfortable."

As though Stiles has flipped a switch in his brain, Derek suddenly becomes aware that his cock is hard and that it actually is pressing somewhat painfully against the zipper of his pants. He snorts softly and looks at Stiles. "If you want me to."

"I do, I really, really do," Stiles responds immediately. "I don't want to be the only one who gets off tonight."

"Okay."

It's like Derek's body has been waiting for Stiles's approval before demanding his attention. His erection slaps against his abdomen as soon as he releases it from the confines of his jeans, which he shoves far enough down his thighs that they won't dig into his skin while he sits on the chair. His foreskin has already receded and he can clearly see precome beading at the top of the head. Stiles moans softly at the sight, and Derek leans back in the chair, his hand resting against his thigh, not wanting to stimulate himself too soon.

"Oh my god," Stiles says, his eyes still fixed on Derek's erection. "Oh my god, I cannot wait to suck that."

"Not tonight," Derek replies, reminding himself almost as much as Stiles, hand moving to curl his fingers in a tight circle around the base of his cock.

Stiles closes his eyes and turns his head slightly into the mattress, reaching behind himself with the condom covered brush. He circles the end of it around his entrance a few times, pushing lightly against the tight furl so that it expands a little, though not to the point of being breached. Then he's bearing down, pushing back with his hips and taking it in. The handle disappears slowly, sometimes sliding smoothly, sometimes going in with a series of little thrusts that drive a huff of air from Stiles's lungs on every push. Once the entire handle is inside him, bristles brushing up against his ass, Stiles lets out a strangled moan.

"Fuck."

Derek doesn't realize he's the one who said it until Stiles looks over at him in surprise. Apparently Derek's face is just as shocked as Stiles's because Stiles grins and shakes with laughter. His hands come up to cover his face for a moment before he lowers them to look at Derek again.

"You should see your face, man." Stiles's smile broadens at the disapproving glare Derek sends his way, and he lets out a laugh when Derek's frown deepens.

"Shit!"

Stiles flails a little, shoulders crashing back into the bed as he makes a grab behind himself for the hairbrush, which Derek can see has almost completely worked itself free of Stiles's body. It must have been pushed out by the muscle contractions while Stiles was laughing, but Derek had been too focused on Stiles's amusement to notice it happening. Stiles manages to reach it before it falls to the bed and keeps it steady with just the tip inside him before turning back to Derek. "Sorry. That's probably the least sexy thing I've done all night."

"No," Derek says, his face easing into a semi-smile; hoping to quell some of the anxiety he sees in Stiles's eyes. "You look like you're enjoying yourself."

Some of the tension leaves Stiles, and he starts making shallow thrusts with the hairbrush again. "Yeah, I am."

Once the handle is fully within Stiles's body again, he twists it around a few times and lets out a disappointed sigh. "That felt a lot nicer with my fingers, but I guess the angle is fine." Adjusting his grip on the bristles in a way that gives him more control, Stiles starts to slowly pull it out. Derek's cock twitches at the way the puckered skin of Stiles's entrance clinging to the latex sheath on the brush, thinking about how he would feel in its place.

Derek palms himself, hoping to relieve some of the pressing need. Almost as soon as Derek's hand reaches his dick, Stiles decides he's pulled back far enough and slams the brush back into his body, letting out a sound that's almost a whimper. Derek's hand tightens involuntarily at the sight and he starts to jerk himself in time with Stiles as he moves the handle in and out in a steady rhythm.

True to the claim that he wants to have a good time in many different positions, Stiles reaches behind himself to secure the brush in place before rising up and kneeling, legs spread so that the end of the brush is just touching the bed.

"I want to ride you sometime too," Stiles says, one hand sneaking up to tweak his nipples while the other slides between his legs to hold the brush. "I can't really go all out on this or I'll fall over, but the idea is still-" he cuts off, sinking down onto the handle and letting his eyes roll up in pleasure.

Derek allows himself a few rough strokes before replying. "You'll look amazing."

"You think?"

"Yeah," Derek says, trailing off into a groan. He watches as Stiles puts one hand on the wall for balance and shifts up onto his feet so that he can bounce on the brush more easily. He imagines running his hands over the muscles in Stiles's thighs as they tense and quiver with the effort of fucking himself on the dildo. Imagines holding Stiles open over his cock and pushing in slowly just to watch Stiles struggle to get more. When Stiles pushes himself up so that just the tip of the brush handle remains inside of him, Derek squeezes the head of his dick, pretending it's Stiles he's sliding into instead of his own hand.

"Oh god," Stiles breathes out, sliding down the handle so that he can grind against it while he reaches for his dick. "Oh my god, I want to come like this."

"Show me," Derek says, and it comes out as a growl, low and possessive. "I want to see."

Stiles moans loudly, rolling his head back and baring his neck to Derek. Derek humors his unspoken request, taking an audible inhale and letting out a satisfied rumble, noting with pleasure how Stiles shudders as the sound washes over him.

"Fuck. _Fuck_. Derek." Stiles gasps. He's still fucking himself on the handle, but his movements are more erratic than before. His hand is moving rapidly over his cock, and Derek is matching his rhythm stroke for stroke.

" _Derek_ , I'm-"

"Come for me," Derek says, keeping his voice gravelly and low. Stiles groans, and Derek watches as his balls draw into his body and he comes in pulses over his stomach. The smell of Stiles's semen floods Derek's senses, and just like that he's coming.

He uses his hands to draw out his orgasm for as long as he can, and by the time he's able to process more than pleasure and the scent of _mate_ , Stiles has already set the brush back on the bedside table and tossed the condom into the trash.

"You probably should have taken off your shirt if you were planning on doing that," Stiles comments from where he is splayed out on the bed, using the sheet to wipe himself off and nodding towards the mess on Derek's henley.

Shrugging, Derek tucks himself back into his pants and stands. There are worse ways to lose a shirt.

"Dude, sit down," Stiles says, waving his hand in an imperial gesture for Derek to stay. "This is the part where we talk about our feelings and shit."

"I thought we did that before we got started," Derek grumbles, retaking his seat on the chair.

"We talked _around_ our feelings," Stiles corrects. "Besides, it's not very gentlemanly to sneak out during the night, and we specifically planned this so that my dad wouldn't be back until well after the sun is up tomorrow. You can stay."

"If I stay, can we talk about things tomorrow?" Derek asks, not wanting to start this conversation with the exhaustion that follows orgasm creeping up on him.

"Only if you promise not to sneak off during the night."

"I'll stay if you put some pants on," Derek says, pointedly eyeing Stiles's naked form on the bed. Stiles rolls his eyes and leans forward to snag his sweatpants from the floor. He doesn't bother standing to put them on, just shuffles around on the bed enough to get them over his hips.

"There. On. Happy now?"

Instead of answering, Derek takes off his shirt and slips into bed behind Stiles, ignoring his indignant yelp and pulling him back so that he is lying against Derek's chest. "Very," Derek rumbles into Stiles's ear, letting him feel the vibrations in his chest.

"Not fair," Stiles mutters, grabbing one of Derek's hands and curling around it. "You'd better still be here in the morning."

Derek hums in reply. He's not going anywhere.

 

 


End file.
